“In these shoes?” I clicked my heel against the stone. “I wasn’t planning on going any further. How’d you know I was here?”
His flashlight beam spun to aim at the door. About two feet up from the floor, a black box the size of a remote control had been affixed to the wall.
“Motion sensor on the door,” he said, and trailed his light back to the great room. “It sends an alarm to my phone. Not much left to pick through, but it wouldn’t be much of a hideout if some idiot got injured.”
“I wasn’t going to try my luck,” I said.
Ian stepped next to me, but kept his distance. Waking up alone must have had him wondering if I’d run off. Good, keep him guessing. His beam illuminated behind the staircase.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go searching for some hidden treasures if you like,” he offered. “Best to stay hidden until our big debut.”
“I’ve got a pair of sneakers in my bag,” I replied. “As long as we split anything we find, 50/50.”
“Like I’d try and swindle my wife,” he chuckled.
We returned to the manor house the next morning. Sequestered away from the outside world, it offered an interesting distraction, but no treasure as our exile stretched past a couple days. In the evenings, we sought distractions on the couch or bed, turning the servants’ quarters of the manor into our strange little honeymoon suite… until we got the call that my father had passed.
In the passenger seat of Ian’s modest car, the manor in my rearview mirror for the first time in almost a week, I didn’t know what to feel. I’d hardly known my father but that hadn’t tarnished my feelings for him, the way I’d idolized him. If I could believe Ian, and despite myself, I did, the father I loved had murdered his parents.
“Once you pick out something a little more appropriate for a will reading, I’ve got to meet up with my allies,” he said as we stopped before turning onto a road. “If your brother tries anything, we need to be ready. Bashir will be nearby on the lookout for your mom. He’ll do what he can to get her away from them.”
“Thanks,” I replied even as I memorized the route he’d been taking.
“Hopefully, it will be a bloodless transition of power,” he said, but I wasn’t sure if he believed himself. “Nobody likes to give up power though, especially illegitimate power.”
After a quick stop at a shop on a small town’s high street, I wore an off-the-rack skirt suit and had my bleach blond hair in a low ponytail. I felt like an intern summering at a law firm. If I didn’t have Ian at my side, nobody would have taken me seriously, but I wanted to look the part.
Ian held a ring box in his hand when I got back in the car. He didn’t speak as I stared at the box. His pause extended uncomfortably. We both knew what it was and why he was about to give it to me. We had to look our parts.
“The diamonds better be real,” I said and snatched the box, “and they better look…”
A large princess cut diamond dominated the gold ring with smaller diamonds in line with a Celtic knot design. Too showy for my taste. I’d fallen silent calculating whether I’d get more selling it as was, or just the diamonds and metal.
“It’s stolen, but the diamonds aren’t marked,” Ian read my mind, “but isn’t it a showstopper?”
“I never expected I’d get married,” I replied as I slipped the ring on, “but this is the type of ring that might have changed my mind. This doesn’t count for the £15,000 you still owe me.”
“Plus interest.” He finished my sentence with a chuckle.
We stopped at a gas station on the motorway outside Glasgow. Ian parked the car next to an SUV. Bashir and another dark-skinned man leaned against its side. A black town car pulled out of a spot on the other side of the lot and parked on our other side.
A middle-aged man, white and in a dark suit stepped out of the passenger seat and walked around to the front of Ian’s car. He got out to greet the men, I stayed in the car. Bashir and his man glared at the white guy until Ian intervened. They spoke for only a few minutes before everyone returned to their vehicles. We entered the city as a convoy.
Ian pulled into a loading zone in front of a modern office building, A solicitor’s office from the signage. He left the keys in the car and motioned for me to step out. Bashir jogged from his car and took Ian’s place. They shared a nod before he drove off. The town car parked behind us and the middle-aged man remained in the back but two passengers, muscle by the look of them, stepped out.
Less than ten minutes later, we stood outside the doors to a conference room, flanked by the muscle. Ian’s fingers squeezed the handle of his attaché. I more than understood, shared his nerves. I fiddled with the wedding ring he had presented me after I’d bought my outfit, more looking the part.
My brother, cousins and mom were beyond the door. None would be happy with what they were about to learn, though Mom would forgive my surprise, fake-ish, marriage.
“Time to topple some tables,” Ian said and reached for the doorknob.
Murmured conversations inside came to a stop. Everyone seated at the long table glanced toward the door. Most eyes remained on us. My brother sat near the head of the table, flanked by one of my cousins and the old ass whose phone I’d stolen after the wedding. Further down the table on the opposite side sat my mom, next to Sal and the cousin I’d heard on the phone when I’d called.
“Emma?” my mom gasped. “What are you doing here? Is that an engagement ring!?”
My brother scrambled to his feet. His eyes had fallen to the ring like my mother’s but they narrowed on Ian whose arm my adorned finger was wrapped around. His cheeks purpled with rage. Whispers around the table grew loud, others recognized Ian as a Hunter thanks to the apparently distinctive family chin. No wonder he had hidden it with a beard.
“Good, good,” said a wizened voice behind us.
